


To Be Seen

by tardiself



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, High Drama, also feat. an eventual faramir/eowyn slow burn, also feat. knockoff tolkien writing, bc this is without a doubt the most dramatic thing ive ever written, feat. eowyn and boromir being the bros they never got to be, i love writing this but every time i open docs i die a little inside, that's like high fantasy but drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-03-05 23:24:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13398474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tardiself/pseuds/tardiself
Summary: Boromir survives the attack of the Uruk-Hai and arrives at Edoras before the Three Hunters, injured and in Éomer's company. When he is denied hospitality by Wormtongue and Théoden, Éowyn takes it upon herself to heal him. Eventual Farawyn.





	1. The Poison of Isengard

Éomer had returned staggering, drawn down by holding another man up. Éowyn saw them as she passed by the throne room. Her brother's companion was barely recognizable as Boromir, son of Denethor. His shirt had been stripped, and his shoulder was bound with linens that had been turned brown and red with blood. His noble face held the pale of Death as though he beheld it, even as Éowyn observed him from the shadows from which she dare not emerge.

"Hail, Théoden, king!" her brother began. "I bring tidings from our borders to the west!" With this, he deposited Boromir carefully on the floor before the throne. Éowyn had rarely spoken with the son of the Steward before, though he seemed a valiant man. Yet, with pity did she gaze upon his weakened form and with regret that such strength as she had seen before should have vanished. Rightly she guessed that more than a shoulder wound had Boromir of Gondor suffered.

"More than tidings it seems you have brought, son of Éomund," Grima Wormtongue spoke before the king, as was his wont. "What business have you in bringing a son of Gondor to the very heart of Rohan?"

Éomer glared at Wormtongue with a hatred not easily matched. "This man has been wounded! Do you not see, my king Théoden? Boromir of Gondor has long been a friend of Rohan and of our house, and now he is in need of our aid. Summon our healers; he will not have much life left should you tarry!"

Then Théoden drew a long and labored breath, and said, "How came you by this man?"

Glancing downward, Éomer long remained silent, but at length replied, "Heal him, and I will tell all."

Wormtongue screwed his face in distaste. "You would deny your king his inquiry? Answer!"

"He has said he will answer!" Éowyn declared, at last stepping from the shadows in which she had long dwelt. "Only heal this man, my king, and all you wish to know shall be known."

"Our healers will be much occupied by the return of your brother's éored, my lady," Wormtongue declared.

Her gaze snapped onto her most hated foe, and with as cool a voice she could summon said, "I speak not to you, Grima Wormtongue-aptly named. Though should Edoras find that no healer can be spared from my brother's victorious éored, I will heal Boromir of Gondor myself."

"Indeed," Théoden said, and laughed a cold laugh. "Let it be done! Take him now and let your brother remain."

Éomer cast his countenance upon Éowyn, and she could not decipher the meaning of his look. Yet, she would not revoke her word nor disobey the order of the king. Summoning her strength, she took Boromir under his arms and drew him near her. The son of Gondor cried out in pain; this was the one sound he uttered in the throne room of Edoras. Éowyn stepped backwards and nearly faltered-for Boromir was a man of great strength, and great strength it required to move him. His feet which lay limp on the floor were taken up by a page, and together the Lady and Page of Rohan moved Boromir son of Denethor from before the throne of Théoden.

The House of Healing was neither full of the injured and ill Rohirrim nor was it short of healers, as was evident upon entry. The page that had assisted Éowyn released Boromir and ran to find the Mistress of the house, leaving Éowyn alone to comfort the son of the Steward. She sat on the cold, stone floor with his head resting on her lap, and she spoke soothing words and laid her hand on his fevered brow.

"Lady Éowyn," Boromir whispered. It was the first that he had recognized whom it was that had saved him from the cruelty of Wormtongue.

"Hush, my lord," she instructed. "You must save what strength remains in you."

Boromir clutched her arm and did not let go. "I must find my company," he declared firmly through his teeth. "They were taken of my fault, and by me they must be found again."

Éowyn looked up, desperate for the Mistress's arrival, then returned her gaze to Boromir. "That cannot be done. You are among friends here, and we will not release you til the power to wield a sword is yours again."

Ere Boromir could protest, the Mistress of the house rushed forward with the page lingering just behind her and knelt by Boromir's side. Her old, withered hand felt his head, his neck, and his wrist and her drawn face did not lighten for an instant.

"Dernhelm," the woman called to the page. "Help me bring this man to a good room."

Boromir did not struggle as he was carried, nor did he resist as he was hoisted on to his bed. Yet, he looked on Éowyn with such sorrow that had he screamed and cried out, her heart would have been less moved.

"My lady," the Mistress said, resting her hand on Éowyn's shoulder. "You should leave now. I fear this healing will not be for the faint of heart."

"This man has been given to my charge," replied Éowyn. "I will not forsake him." And those that saw her then knew that she would not be moved should the Golden Hall crumble and Edoras fall, for she was honorable and steadfast in her vows. So, the Mistress relented and bade Éowyn make herself useful and obey what other instruction she received.

The dressing of Boromir's shoulder was cut away, and under it there lay a deep wound encompassed by green and sickly flesh. "Here is an affliction I hoped never to see again!" the Mistress cried when she saw it. "Alas! that a noble man should suffer such a fate!"

Then Dernhelm, who had long been silent, begged to question, "What fate has befallen him, Mother?"

"His wound is poisoned," declared the Mistress. "Its sickness spreads slowly, but with great pain. I know this poison, for I have not been permitted to store its antidote."

At this Boromir spoke, though he labored through every word. "It is the poison of Isengard. Saruman's orc struck me with his arrow."

"And owning the cure is not permitted?" Éowyn repeated. "On whose order is a healer denied her means of healing?"

The Mistress cast her eyes down and said in a low voice, "Grima Wormtongue has forbidden it, my lady."

At these words, anger and fear boiled in Éowyn's chest. "What can I do?" she demanded.

"Naught can be done, Lady Éowyn," Dernhelm sighed, and hung his head low. "What Wormtongue has ordered, no man can overthrow. Forgive me, my lady, but surely you see that even the king's reigns are in his grasp."

Long had that truth haunted the Golden Hall. Wormtongue ruled Rohan, answering to none, and all that he desired was his at a word or the reach of his hand.

At length, Éowyn turned from Boromir and from the healer and her son and left the House of Healing to return to the Golden Hall. Weary of the command of Wormtongue though she was, she feared him, and she was justified in her fear. None could know all the evils that had come to pass under Wormtongue's direction, though she herself knew many.

On the steps of the house that was meant to belong to her uncle and king, Éowyn's step slowed. A sudden new fear pierced her, and visions filled her mind. The days would soon be darker, and the throne of Rohan would not hold the once-great King Théoden forever. And what would become of Éowyn? Was she to live the remainder of the dark days in submission to the snake in the grass? Would she allow an honorable man to die as a guest in the care of the Riddermark?

Unsummoned yet unable to be detained, the Lady of Rohan went openly before the throne where the king of Rohan sat and the ruler of the land next to him. "My lord, the son of the Steward of Gondor lies in Death's arms in our house, able to be healed. Will you not show him the pity he deserves?"

Théoden's head rose, and his eyes matched Éowyn's though he saw her not for his gaze was beyond her and beyond Middle Earth.

"Pity," Wormongue spat. "Pity for a friend of foes? Be not fooled, Éowyn of Edoras. The noble reside not in the White City of Minas Tirith, nor does this Captain of the White Tower hold any honor in him. If you cannot heal him, my lady, then let him die! And better it will be that you do not waste yourself on his care."

"Of what foe do you speak? Has there not long been friendship between the White City and the Golden Hall?"

Wormtongue smiled, and at the evil sight, Éowyn grew cold and her foot stepped backwards unbidden. "There is indeed great friendship between Boromir of Gondor and Éomer, your brother."

A long silence passed and still Éowyn did not comprehend his words. Often had her brother spoken of his admiration of Boromir and concealed it from no man. "This is true," Éowyn confirmed at length.

"Is not Éomer, son of Éomund a betrayer of the laws of Rohan? Did he not meet Boromir's company and set them free, disregarding the command of the king? Is he not a violent man and a warmonger? Does he not even now sit in the dungeons of Edoras? Tell me, my lady, what honorable man has a friend such as your brother?"

At this, Éowyn turned to the king, and a wild and desperate look was in her eye. "My lord, I beg of you, tell me that this liar lies still! My brother is loyal to you!"

"Éomer is gone," Théoden sighed. "Gone, gone, gone..."

"Gone," Wormtongue repeated. "Just as Théodred is gone and Gandalf Greyhame as I have just been told. There is no ally of Rohan. None to protect us. Yet, fear not, my lady. In this hour of desperation, our friend Saruman the White will use his mighty hand against the foe. All shall be well."

Éowyn now trembled in fear and anger. "Poison!" she declared. "The poison of Isengard which even now kills Boromir is in the very words of the Wormtongue! May they that still hope never see the ruin of Edoras and the Golden Hall, for ruin you have brought on us! My lord, will you do nothing?" And she cast herself at Théoden's feet, and clung to his robe and did not move till a cold hand placed itself on her bent neck.

"Such despair," Wormtongue's voice crooned. "Such hopelessness you have brought to yourself with your vain words. Trust in me, my lady, as your exalted uncle does, and even Shadow and Darkness shall seem to be the very shores of Valinor."

And Éowyn lifted her face and met the cold eyes that ever followered her where she went, and she saw in them corruption and desire. From times before, she had seen the same, and the warmth of her blood was stolen. "Do not touch me," she hissed, and forced his hand off of her.

She stood again and still saw nothing in the face of Théoden, neither wrath nor compassion. And her heart grew heavy, and her face turned grim, and she turned her back on the Throne and left with the same haste with which she had entered.

Not until she was again at Boromir's bedside did she stay her feet. The Mistress and her son had long removed themselves from him, though awake he remained. "My lady, Éowyn," Boromir began, managing little more than a whisper. "What news from the Mark?"

Then Éowyn took the cloth from the water basin on the table next to him, and wrung it until holes tore in it, and laid it on his brow. "Save your strength, my lord," she commanded. The thought of her brother passed by her, and she knew that no more good remained in the world. "At such a time as this, it is much needed."


	2. Boromir's Fate

Long did Boromir lay in the Healing House of Edoras, yet soon did he find that he once again desired to feel the warmth of the sun that was barred from him in the dark chamber. Not long before, he had stood upon the stone of Minas Tirith with Faramir at his side, and with no small disdain regarded the heat of the sun as it beat upon his neck. Foolish did he now seem for such remarks, for chill swept into his chamber every second, and he would have paid all the gold of Erebor to stand again with his brother in the heat of Gondor.

Cold was the hall and colder still the linens drenched in water that hourly the Mistress of the House or Lady Éowyn laid on his brow. Yet coldest of all was the Lady Éowyn from whom he could glean no more than ten words in one meeting. In days long passed, Boromir had seen the White Lady of Rohan in the Golden Hall, though they spoke but rarely. Gay she had seemed then, and none could take the smile from her face nor the light from her eyes. That memory belonged to a time when the King Théoden was a strong and valiant man still, and much now had changed. Shadows lingered under her eye, and the lines of care that creased the corners of her mouth did not vanish. Such seemed to be the fate of the young in the days of hopelessness and fear. With sorrow did Boromir look on the Lady Éowyn for the evil time was hers and had not seen fit to pass her by.

Even now Éowyn sat by his side, and she had scarce removed herself thence in the two days that he had lain in the House of Healing. More she spoke to him then than in merrier times, though little did she say. Often she bade him speak of the quest that had brought him to her care, yet she was never satisfied with his answer, for he would reveal little and turned the tide of their exchange quickly. Though now she was silent as the dead and gazed out the small window in the chamber, never stirring lest Boromir should call her.

"Have you no questions for me, my lady?" he said with the hope of pulling her from her meditation.

With a start, she turned to him and he saw that her face was reddened. "None that you would answer, my lord," she replied. Her smile did not reach her eyes.

"I may yet surprise you," he countered. "You may find that a new day has brought a new mood, and I am loose with my tales."

"Pray, do not deal in falsehoods. They do not become a Captain of Gondor."

Boromir laughed, though it pained him. "I am not to be believed! That is well, for nothing ought be given lest another thing is taken. I wish to know the tales of the White Lady, and I would pay with my own to hear them."

At length, Éowyn replied, "Let it be done! My tales are worth little, and greatly do I desire to know of the world outside Edoras."

"I shall tell what I can, save only the purpose of the quest. My lady need only ask."

This Éowyn pondered shortly before inquiring, "When first we spoke two days hence, my lord spoke of his Company. I know not who they are."

Boromir nodded. "That is easily remedied. My company was myself and one other Man, Mithrandir, an Elf, a Dwarf, and four halflings." At the remembrance of the four, pain stirred more in his heart than in his wound. "My lady will not have seen a halfling, I reckon, though I pity her for it. They are the most remarkable of creatures."

"My lord did also name his company lost. Pray, what fate has befallen them?"

Boromir's face turned grim and with a shake of his head, he answered, "That is yet another question, and I will bear it in mind. Tell me first the fate of thy brother Éomer, for he is dear to me and dearer still for the aid he has given me."

At these words did Éowyn's countenance darken and she said in a low voice, "He is prisoner in the dungeons of Edoras. The counsel of Wormtongue bore him thence, and the folly of the king keeps him."

Then was Boromir's heart made heavy, and he smote his breast saying, "Alas! That evil should be rewarded for good! Let no peace enter this world until justice is done to the son of Éomund!" He turned to Éowyn. "More now do I thank thee for thy service to me, my lady, for it is given through grief to the man by whom your grief is come. Differently would I treat the man for whom my own brother was imprisoned."

"I do not think of it, for my lord is dear to Éomer as well, and he would not have me treat his friend ill."

"All the same..." Boromir sighed. "And now you wish to know how I was separated from my company. I pray that my lady will not think less of me once the tale has been told, for it does not tell of the courage of Boromir of Gondor but of his foolishness and cowardice."

"From the fair country of Lothlórien we had come, yet were we weary and full of sorrow for the loss of Mithrandir. We were attacked by Orcs and a dark creature (which I pray my lady need never see) near Sarn Gebir which left us wearier still.

"When at last we made camp at Parth Galen, the leader of our company bade Frodo the Halfling to choose our path. I much desired that he would bring us to Gondor and to Minas Tirith, though there were other and perhaps wiser paths we might have taken. Frodo begged an hour to be alone and to make his choice, which he was granted. But I followed Frodo, and I rue the moment I decided I would. Much I cannot tell you now, only that in anger, I frightened him and he ran from me and from the Company, taking only his servant with him. Only when he was gone did I realize my folly.

"Long did I weep on the slopes of Amon Hen until my ear caught sound of the distress of Frodo's kinsmen, Meriadoc and Peregrin by name. When I arrived to their aid, I saw them ambushed by the most vile of Orcs, a breed called the Uruk-Hai. I fought until I was struck by an arrow, and-in staggering-fell, hit my head hard against a stone, and remembered no more. The little ones were taken then, though I know not where.

"I lay as though dead until what remained of the Company found me and helped me to stand. Our leader bound my shoulder in haste, and declared that we would follow the Orcs, not suffering that our friends should be left to torment. For some few days we journeyed until we encountered your brother and his éored. Your noble brother, seeing that I was injured, brought me here on the back of his own horse, though I was burdensome, and left the rest of the Company to their task."

This said, Boromir was silent long, for he did not see fit to tell her that Merry and Pippin were more than like killed by her brother yet he thought of it. At length, he again spoke, "I would ask now for an answer, my lady."

"Ask," Éowyn demanded. "Though no tale could perplex my lord as his has perplexed me. Much you hide, son of Denethor."

"In truth," Boromir confirmed and spoke no more about his quest. "I know not Grima Wormtongue, nor do I find honor in him from the time we met though short it was. Yet, he holds such sway over King Théoden that I may be greatly mistaken. What manner of man is he?"

Éowyn's eyes dimmed. "I do not-" With a breath she began anew. "I fear that your first judgement was a true one. His loyalty, if he has any, is to Saruman, and long has he worked his master's will in the Golden Hall. Great evil has been wrought on his account."

"Of what evil do you speak, my lady?"

At this, Éowyn clasped her hands, which trembled, and she did not answer.

Seeing that this troubled her, Boromir said, "Forgive me, my lady. I have made my inquiry before giving an answer. What now would you ask?"

"Nothing, my lord. Excuse me," she said, and rising she turned from Boromir and left the chamber.

Now did Boromir begin to fear that he had unknowing brought hurt to the Lady Éowyn, and he rose to follow her and beg her pardon. His step faltered often for he had not walked since his company had met Éomer on the plains of Rohan, yet he would not stop. Deaf was he to the protest of the Mistress of the House, for he was already far behind Éowyn.

"My lady!" he called. "Lady Éowyn, stay, I pray you!"

On the stairs of the Golden Hall, she stopped and turned. "My lord should be resting!" she insisted.

As though she had not spoken, Boromir took long steps to meet her. "I must beg forgiveness for what offense I have caused."

"You have caused no offense, my lord," said she, and it was clear she spoke in truth. "I left you only because it brings me great pain to see the state of my country and to speak of it brings pain greater still. We are on the verge of being engulfed in the shadow from which we shall never again emerge, and we meet our doom as those that are dead already." She then turned to the Golden Hall and spoke to it as though it lived. "Hall of Silence I name thee, o house of my youth, for with Silence has our suffering been met and Silence has been returned at the cry of war."

And Boromir's heart was much moved, for he knew what it was to feel the end of days approach. "My lady," he began, and he would have spoken words of comfort to her. Yet, no word could he utter for the pain that now began to overtake him. He fell upon his knees on the steps of the Golden Hall and cried aloud.

Éowyn knelt by him and held him up. "You have exerted yourself, my lord. Lean on me, and I will return you to the care of the Mistress."

"Éowyn, Éowyn, listen to me now," he begged. "I now begin to understand the evil of Wormtongue. I stand on death's door, ready to cross the threshold, and my cure is withheld from me. This was a planned stroke in Saruman's design."

Hearing this, Éowyn furrowed her brow and said, "I do not understand."

"I must not die in Rohan," continued Boromir. "For if I should die here and my father hear of it, war would be waged not against the dark tower Barad-dûr but on the Golden Hall of Edoras. My brother..." Here he paused and winced at the poison that coursed through him. "Faramir would not be able to stay my father's wrath, however much he tried. My lady, you must take me far from here."

She shook her head. "I will not abandon you in the wilderness while you may yet be healed."

"You must. I will not be healed, my lady. My fate is well-deserved, for I abandoned my oath and broke my honor. Yet, I desire that my death bring no further harm to the free peoples of Middle Earth."

At this Éowyn was long silent, though much thought was behind her grey eyes. At length, she called for Dernhelm the page and instructed that Boromir be taken back to the House of Healing. Nevertheless, her decision was yet to be made. Boromir knew this when he looked back and saw the White Lady of Rohan standing still on the steps of the Golden Hall of Edoras, watching him as he went.


	3. The Departure of Boromir

Dernhelm was relieved of duty as the sun set on the second day of Éomer's return. Glad was he to return home, for of late he had found only sorrow and weariness in the Golden Hall. Dark days had fallen on Middle Earth, and even they that knew little of the world outside Rohan knew it. Théodred, heir of Rohan, was slain; and the man who now was named heir lay wasting in the dungeons of the hall of his fathers. The once-great King Théoden, withered and stooped in the chair that was called a throne, had as well as denied the Lord Boromir, a noble and honorable man, his very life. The life of the Golden Hall, the beauty and gaiety, of the Lady Éowyn was hidden by shadow for fear of the Wormtongue and seemed that they would never again come to light.

All this did Dernhelm ponder as slowly his feet carried him to the chambers in the House of Healing wherein he and his mother had resided for long years. The only light in the chamber was from the flame on the wick of the candle that flickered in the window, and next to it his mother stood grinding a green herb in a wooden bowl.

"My son," said she, though her eyes did not remove themselves from her work. "Will you stand idle in the doorway?"

Thus gently reprimanded, Dernhelm stepped into the room. "How fare your wards, mother?"

Sighing, his mother pulled a vial from her healer's cupboard and answered, "They live, and I shall call living well."

"Lord Boromir lives still?" questioned Dernhelm, for he had been much interested by the son of Gondor since he and the Lady Éowyn had carried him to the House of Healing.

"Indeed, I would not say my wards lived if they had not," his mother replied. "The Lady Éowyn is with him now, and this poultice I make even now is to be his. Lady Éowyn says that she will not return to the Golden Hall until Boromir is healed or dead. I have allowed it, for she no longer has any friend in Meduseld's Hall."

This Dernhelm knew. Any that walked in the Hall of Edoras would not soon forget the indifference of an uncle to his niece, she who was as a daughter to him. Nor would any forget the snake's eyes that followed her withersoever she went and hid not their desire for her. Indeed, it brought Dernhelm great comfort to learn that she was now as much in the care of his mother as Lord Boromir. In the house of Hildwynn, at least, the White Lady would find herself safe.

At length, Hildwynn laid down her bowl and declared, "The poultice is done. Follow me to Lord Boromir's chamber, my son, and we will see if we may yet slow his end."

Dernhelm did as he was bade, and entered Lord Boromir's chamber upon a quiet scene. The Lady Éowyn had fallen fast asleep sitting on a chair in the room's corner, though Boromir was awake still and much agitated on his shoulder's account.

"My lord," Hildwynn began, walking to Boromir's bedside. "This poultice will ease your pain or I shall call myself a healer no longer."

Boromir nodded his thanks only, and could say not a word. With great pains, he removed the shirt he had been given, revealing his sickly wound. Saruman's poison had coursed with alarming haste through his veins, reaching almost to the Captain's heart.

Hildwynn laid the poultice, yet Dernhelm found he could not look upon her work. Always, he had been uneasy at the sight of injury, blood, and illness. With far greater ease did he look upon the Lady Éowyn, though she was bent as one with many cares. The resemblance to her uncle came swiftly to Dernhelm's mind, in both the former and latter state. In waking hours, it seemed Éowyn had strength and courage to match all of her fathers as did King Théoden in the brighter days, yet of late she was weary and grim under the control of Wormtongue. Indeed, the lady and her uncle were much the same in that regard.

"She ought to rest in her own quarters, I know," Boromir said. The poultice had acted quickly to relieve his pain, and he now spoke to Dernhelm with greater ease. "I'd have woken her had she not brought my brother to mind as she slept. He too grows weary in the face of this darkness and I would that he had more time to unburden his troubled mind. I fear also that I have unwitting given more troubles to our Lady than she ought to carry. So, I have not bade the Lady Éowyn to return to the Golden Hall."

Finished with her work, Hildwynn stepped away. "She would not have gone had you asked her. Our Lady is quite fixed that she should see you well."

At this, Lady Éowyn stirred and woke, and seeing she was encompassed by her friends, she said unto herself, "I have been seated here too long." With this, she stood and walked to Hildwynn.

"It is well that you rest, my lady," Hildwynn said to her, laying a hand upon her shoulder. "Many cares are given to your charge."

"And many cares I shall still have when I wake," Éowyn answered. "What do you do here, Lady Hildwynn?"

With a gesture of her hand, Hildwynn answered, "I have laid a poultice for Lord Boromir to ease his pain."

"Indeed, it has served its purpose," Boromir added, sitting a little straighter.

"Will it slow the poison in anywise?" Éowyn begged to question.

Hildwynn fell silent for but a moment and, at length, answered in a quiet voice, "No, my lady."

Long was Éowyn silent when she heard this, and it seemed a great battle was fought behind the grey of her eyes. Then, she looked on Lord Boromir, and he looked on her in turn, and an unheard understanding passed between them, though Dernhelm could not fathom it. Turning at last to Dernhelm, Éowyn said, "Pray, accompany me, son of Hildwynn."

Wordless and willing to obey, Dernhelm followed the Lady Éowyn from the House of Healing and far away to the place where the horses of the kings dwelt. Outside the doors, Éowyn stayed her feet and looked on them with great sorrow.

Then Dernhelm, who had long been silent, spoke and said, "Pray, forgive me, but I must ask my lady her purpose for bringing me to this place."

"Out of great reluctance and a friend's insistence I have brought thee hence. I will say no more, for this task already weighs heavy on my heart, and the slightest attempt to dissuade me may prove fruitful." At this, she walked to the doors and was allowed in by the guard, for they knew her well and did whatsoever she asked without hesitation.

She walked swiftly to a great white horse and stroked its neck and spoke to it in soothing tones. "This is Lightfoot," she said to Dernhelm. "She is the mother of Snowmane, the king's steed. She was also the steed of my brother Éomer, the heir of Rohan. Snowmane was my brother's gift to the king in a day where the world seemed brighter for the rule of my uncle." Silent she was for just a moment, then her reverie was broken. "All haste is required. Go now and fetch provisions for two riding hard for six days. Let no man hinder you, Dernhelm."

Dernhelm did as she commanded, though in his heart he began to wonder at all she did. When he returned, he dared to question, "My lady, for what purpose have I gotten these things? Does my lady mean to leave Edoras?"

"I mean to leave Rohan," she explained, and at this Dernhelm despaired and wondered if ever the light would shine in his country again.

"I shall return," Éowyn added hastily. "I take the Lord Boromir to die in the land of his fathers- thus he has requested."

This did nothing to ease Dernhelm's mind. "My lady, is there nothing else to be done?"

"Indeed, there is nothing," Éowyn answered, and took his shoulder. "In nowise do I lack confidence in your most honorable mother, yet even she herself has said that he shall not be healed by any hand in Rohan. A fool was I to request the Lord Boromir to my charge, for my ungentle hand would not heal the most trivial of ailments."

Dernhelm would not be silent at this declamation. "If my lady is a fool, let all in Rohan be fools in the likeness of her. Out of mercy did she offer her service, and out of kindness does she preform what the Lord Boromir has asked, though it causes her much grief. My lady, though with a heavy heart, I shall aid you in your task. I pray only that you put aside this senseless thought."

With a weakened smile, Éowyn turned again to Lightfoot, and saddled her, and burdened her also with the provisions that Dernhelm had brought. She took the mare by the reins and led it out of the stable and to the door of the House of Healing.

Silently, Dernhelm and the Lady Éowyn passed through the house, Hildwynn having already retired to her chamber, until at length they reached Lord Boromir's side.

"Have you not slept at all, my lord?" Éowyn questioned when she saw him awake.

"I shall sleep soon," was Boromir's response. "Dernhelm, lad, help me rise, I pray."

With the help of the Lady Éowyn, Dernhelm did what was requested of him, and led the Lord Boromir away from the House of Healing. With no ease did he mount Lightfoot, though Éowyn did so easily. Boromir looked down upon Dernhelm and said, "You have treated the least of men with the greatest of care. A debt unnameable do I owe to you and your mother Hildwynn, yet I regret that I can in nowise pay it. My blessing and the hope of a long and prosperous life can I give you only."

Then, Dernhelm began to understand that his last sight of the Lord Boromir was upon him. With a closed throat, he answered, "Happily I claim your blessing for my house. May you find peace, my lord."

Thus did Boromir of Gondor depart Edoras, the Lady Éowyn with him. And Dernhelm stood and watched them until they were afar off and were no more than a shapeless silhouette on the edge of night.

Dernhelm was given leave to remain home on the next morn, and he stayed by Hildwynn, doing whatsoever she might ask, for his mind was heavy with the suffering of Boromir and the burdensome task of Lady Éowyn, and he desired to think of it no more. Thrice did Hildwynn need to call her son's name before she ever had his ear, and she understood it not for she did not yet know of her ward's departure.

When, at last, Hildwynn grew weary of this, she asked, "Why do you sit so quietly, my son? For what purpose hast thou shut thine mouth and veiled thine eyes from all the world?"

Long did Dernhelm looked on his mother at this saying, and at length he answered, "Mother, I have taken part in a scheme that I have not wit enough to fully comprehend."

But he was able to say no more, for Háma, the doorward of the Meduseld, entered the house on the heels of a lean and weathered man. "The Lord Aragorn requests audience with the Lord Boromir," Háma said.

"What is the meaning of this?" Hildwynn demanded. "I know not this man, nor is he a man of Rohan by his look. On what authority does he request this audience?"

"By order of our King Théoden, Lord Aragorn is to be given whatsoever he asks."

"And this alone have I asked," Aragorn finished. "My lady, I pray, let not an ill-favored look be the cause for which you turn away a friend's hand. Your servant was one of Lord Boromir's company, and he has brought here the cure which Lord Boromir has long been denied by the Wormtongue." At this, he stretched forth his hand, and in it were stalks of kingsfoil.

And Dernhelm cried aloud at the words of Lord Aragorn, and the gaze of all there turned unto him. "May Boromir's blessing upon me be revoked and a curse put in its stead! My Lord Aragorn, yesternight I sent with Lady Éowyn Lord Boromir over the borders of our land and into Gondor, there to die."

Hearing this, Hildwynn took hold of her son's shoulder. "For what purpose have you done this thing, Dernhelm?"

"It was my lord's request," Dernhelm answered in a quiet voice.

"Then there is no time to waste," Aragorn said. "Do not despair, Dernhelm, and do not curse yourself for the sake of Boromir. I shall soon return with both Lady and Lord-I swear it by Isildur's blood." Having said thus, he turned from the presence of all, and in haste left the House of Healing.


	4. Many Healings

East across the plains of Rohan, the violet of night shifted to the grey of morning, and the first rays of sunlight stretched upon the browned grass of the plains, brighter than they had in long months. Yet two riders upon a single horse passed this all by and heeded it not.

There was no rest for the children of men that had flown in fear from all hope of life and living, for Éowyn would not slow nor look back upon the city of her youth lest in sorrow she turn back again to that hope which she deemed vain.

Within the second hour of their doomed flight, the pain that Boromir suffered had grown beyond what words could tell. Indeed even speaking had passed from things easily done, and from him, Éowyn heard only his shallow breath which slowed with every mile. Death waited by the door for the Captain of Gondor, and unwitting did Éowyn press him ever toward the threshold.

When the sun was high and its heat bore down upon them at its fullest and Edoras was behind and unable to be seen, Éowyn finally slowed and dismounted Lightfoot. "We cannot stay long," she said, though she knew that Boromir could not reply. "Only for the sake of a little food and drink have we stopped."

At this, she brought forth the provisions Dernhelm had gotten and gave Boromir his portion. The captain had hardly strength enough to bring the food to his lips, yet once he had done so, he reached out to lay his hand on Éowyn's head in thanks. At this, Éowyn's thoughts turned to her brother in the dungeons of Edoras and how often he had done the same.

For the first time, Éowyn allowed herself to look backwards at the path they had taken. Edoras was no longer in sight, and had not been for many miles. Though, on the horizon, there was another shape - a dark rider on a pure white steed - and he advanced toward them with a speed Éowyn had only seen when Gandalf had left Edoras for the last time.

"A rider approaches from the West!" Èowyn cried, and at this, she wasted not another moment. Swinging herself onto Lightfoot behind Boromir, she began to ride once again with a newfound fear.

Never had Lightfoot been made to run so, and indeed never again would she be. But the fear that belonged to her riders had fallen on her likewise for she was in nowise well-treated under the rule of Wormtongue, and no prodding was needed to press her onward.

Still, even for the speed Lightfoot showed, it proved for naught in the wake of their pursuer, and not many moments passed before he overcame them.

"I mean you no harm!" said the rider unto them. "Give me the Lord Boromir, I pray you! There is yet hope for him!"

And Éowyn looked on the man and saw that he was sincere and noble and had no ill will against her or the man given to her charge. Yet, she did not release Boromir, and said, "Hope has forsaken us, and death has taken its stance as a changeling from some dark, fey place. Indeed, in death only there is hope of living yet another day unburdened by the shadow of a war without honor."

At this, the rider took his leave of Shadowfax and stood upon the ground by Éowyn. "You know naught of that which you speak my lady," said he, and reaching into his bosom he brought forth a common weed that Éowyn had oft seen growing in the shades of the Golden Hall but could not name. "Hope lingers still."

In her heart, Éowyn grew once more cautious of her task, for much wisdom was behind the grey of the man's eyes, and it seemed clear unto her that he perceived much of the world as it was in truth. She looked upon Boromir, and his eyes were lit with warmth as they looked upon the rider, such as they had not been all the days he had been in her charge.

"I do not feign to realize all that you now say," Éowyn confessed, and dismounted Lightfoot. "Though, if there is any hope for the Lord Boromir, it is well that we should use it."

At this, the rider sighed, and smiled, and brought Boromir down from Lightfoot, and laid him on the ground in a sheltered place. "Take the horses further onward, Lady Éowyn," the rider instructed. "Much space is required should the Lord Boromir be healed to his fullest."

Without question, Éowyn obeyed. As she led the horses away, her eye caught the bright white of the man's steed, and a horse she knew was brought to remembrance. That horse had been a wild, untamed thing, and a beast of true magnificence as none had before seen. Her uncle had much desired to be its master, yet he could not master it at even his most valiant attempts. Indeed, only the Grey Pilgrim had mastered him of late. "Shadowfax…" she whispered. Hearing his name, Shadowfax looked upon Éowyn and bent his head under her outstretched hand. "How is it that this nameless man has taken you from Edoras?"

Éowyn looked back upon the man as he pressed the weed into Boromir's poisoned wound. In truth, there was an air about him unseen in the men of Rohan or even of Gondor. Almost elven-like he seemed for the age of his ageless face. An upright man and a king among men he seemed unto Éowyn, and as she returned to his side, she felt more that she was being drawn there by an unseen rope tied about her waist than that her feet moved of her own will.

"He is weak," the man said unto her, though he had barely looked back upon her. "His strength of will has not overcome the poison of Saruman."

"But he will live?" Éowyn questioned. "Was that not my lord's promise?"

"Only fools promise life or death to men," said he. "Yet, I have done all that is within my power, and more than like, he shall live. Though, his life shall be bought in some other way, I reckon. Isengard's poison runs deep in mind and body. Not all of it shall be drawn out by the strongest of medicines."

At this, Éowyn knelt by Boromir, and he squeezed her hand in his with some lately unrecalled strength. "I feel I shall yet live, my lady," said Boromir. "You may mark it as yet another valiant feat done by the Captain of Gondor."

Éowyn laughed, and warmth grew in her chest from hearing again the voice of he who she had long since named her friend. "Valiant it will be, but fulfilled it is not."

"The Lady Éowyn speaks in truth, Boromir," the man said. "We will rest here the night and return to Edoras in the morning."

When Boromir had closed his eyes, Éowyn turned again to the man that had healed him. "I am given to curiosity, my lord," said she. "Who is he that knows our names and masters the prince of horses?"

"None master Shadowfax, and he has only borne me out of friendship for one who is at Edoras still," the man replied, helping Éowyn to her feet. "Your name is known to me, my lady, as it is known to many. The White Lady of the Rohan is remembered of all who come and go from the Golden Hall of Meduseld."

"Indeed, I know of myself, my lord," Éowyn answered. "My lord has said nothing of himself or his purpose."

The man smiled. "I am known to some as Aragorn, son of Arathorn." Having said this, he looked down upon Boromir who slept with more peace than he had in many long nights. "My purpose is yet unfulfilled."

"And who, pray, sent my lord unto us?" Éowyn pressed all the more.

"A young lad in the Healing House," answered Aragron. "A goodly lad who was much anxious for thy safe return. And, before him, I was sent to that house by my lady's good uncle."

At this saying, Éowyn was much astonished. "It cannot be so," said she. "My uncle gives no more any command nor does he send any men there or thus."

Aragorn offered Éowyn a smile, brief and small. "My lady will find her home much changed ere she returns to it," he replied and said little more.

As night fell, Aragorn and Éowyn built a fire near Boromir who was again awake and spoke with more ease. Indeed, he spoke to Aragorn as though they had long been dear friends, and Éowyn could not comprehend it.

When the night was dark over the three and Aragorn had long been asleep, Éowyn placed herself at Boromir's side and said, "It is strange to me that you should have so quickly made a friend of Lord Aragorn. Is this some custom of Gondor I have failed to learn?"

"Did he not tell you?" Boromir replied. "Aragorn was one of the Company I have mentioned. Indeed, he was the leader of our Company before it was broken. I do wonder what has become of the others… especially the halflings…"

Éowyn gazed upon the sleeping form of the son of Arathorn. "He must be a very great man to have been named your leader."

"My lady speaks in truth," Boromir said. "Though, he ought to talk more. I have learned nothing from him that I wish to know."

Éowyn smiled. "If my memory serves me well in anywise, I would remind my lord that he too withheld such things from me in the first days he was in my charge."

"Then this is my judgement," Boromir sighed. "I shall sleep through it, and mind it none. Though there is pain still in my arm… It is much lesser than it was, and it shall pass soon, I am sure." He grasped the upper arm that had been poisoned and closed his eyes once more.

In the morning, the three rose and began the ride back to Edoras, Boromir and Éowyn on Shadowfax and Aragorn on Lightfoot. Once more, Aragorn said nothing of the land to which they were returning or the Company from which Boromir had come, though he did amuse them with great tales of Elves and Men who lived in times past.

Boromir was nearly strong again, though he did wince often and tire easily still, and he spoke with great animation of his perilous journeys and mighty feats. Many of which things, Éowyn had heard already when he was yet in the House of Healing, but she would not deny him the pleasure of recounting them.

Time passed in good company, and by evening, the Golden Hall was in view and growing nearer. A tall, golden-haired man stood in wait for them outside the city, and even from afar off, Éowyn recognized her brother. She leapt down from Shadowfax and ran to greet him. Laughing, she took his face in her hands and said, "How is it that my brother meets me at the gate? Were you not the prisoner of our uncle only yesterday?"

And Éomer smiled and declared unto her, "The king is free from the control of Wormtongue and of Isengard. Once again are we a free people, and to the Grey Pilgrim we owe our gratitude."

When Éomer said this, Boromir and Aragorn had drawn near enough to hear. "Mithrandir?" Boromir said. "That cannot be. He was lost in Moria. I, myself, told you as much."

At this, Éomer looked upon Boromir and his face lit. "It is a joy to my heart to see you well again, my friend," said he. "And I take pleasure in reporting that your account of he who is now Gandalf the White was false, else there was some piece of the story that was unknown to you. He sits now in the Golden Hall at the right hand of the king Théoden."

Boromir turned to see Aragorn who smiled, unshaken. "You knew this," said Boromir. "And you did not tell me."

"I would not have taken the pleasure from the Lord of the Mark," answered Aragorn.

Then Éowyn said, "And as for Saruman's snake in the grass... Wormtongue is gone?"

At this mention, the smile fell from Éomer's face. "He is not. He has found his residence in the same cell of the same dungeon he placed me in but two days hence. I would that Edoras, and indeed Rohan, would be rid of his stink and make haste to be. Yet, he awaits the king's judgement still.

"But no more uneasy tidings! Hope has returned to these lands, and with it come my sister and the Lords of Gondor!" Éomer turned again to the two men in company. "My friends, enter the city and may you find better welcome than you have of late."

"Our thanks to you, son of Éomund," said Aragorn. "I must bring Boromir once more unto the House of Healing, but we shall meet you again in the Golden Hall once his business there is finished."

And Aragorn and Boromir rode through the open gate of Edoras, but Éomer bade Éowyn linger a moment."Sister, all is not well," he said. "Grima lives still, and I know this grieves you."

Éowyn hesitated only a moment. "It would be falsehood to say that I had not at times wished life would leave him, yet I find that it still gladdens my heart to hear that we are far beyond his reach. He may yet die still... We do not know the king's mind."

"You speak true," Éomer agreed, nodding. With this, he placed his arm on his sister's shoulder and began to walk her back into the city. "Whatever fate Saruman's puppet is given, you will not hear it alone, nor will I let any trouble you for it. You have many friends, here."

Éowyn smiled. "And the dearest of my friends is with me now. Edoras is no longer a stranger to me."

Éomer placed his hand upon her head and ruffled her hair. "Welcome home, Éowyn."

When at last the children of Éomund reached the steps of the Golden hall, Éowyn looked unto the House of Healing. The son of Arathorn was there with Boromir, she knew. There was strangeness to the man that had healed her friend. Quiet and noble was he, and of a royal bearing. He spoke in such a way that his listeners were made to be attentive to him, and he spoke of wondrous and beautiful things that seemed unable to exist in the ever-darkening world in which they dwelt.

She found that she wondered whether the purpose that Aragorn had spoken of would take him away from Rohan. And as she wondered, she found that in her heart she desired that it wouldn't.


	5. The Trials of Men

A gladness unprecedented kindled in Boromir's chest as his foot once again fell upon the stone floors of the House of Healing in Edoras. The cold air and smell of herbs filled his lungs, and once again he was ashamed that he should have deemed a place of great care and comfort an ill residence. Upon the back of Lightfoot and in the care of the benevolent White Lady Éowyn, he had feared that no place - save those wild and strange places of the great wilderness - would ever again welcome him for the small duration of his life. Joyous indeed he found it to return again to a house of familiarity with much life yet before him.

The good lady of the house caught Boromir and Aragorn in her sight and walked to them with long strides. "My lords," she said with a smile upon her face. "It brings me great relief to see the both of you here and well."

"Though I guess that your happiness to see Lord Boromir well surpasses that of your happiness to see me," Aragorn said.

"I confess," the lady said with a laugh. "My lord guesses rightly."

Boromir stepped forward. "Pray, my lady, where is Dernhelm? For it is my understanding that it was due to him that I still live."

"My son is at his post, my lord," Hildwynn answered. "He will surely be pleased to know that my lord is well as he was much anxious for thy safe return."

With a nod, Aragorn said, "Allow me then to go now and relieve his anxiety, my lady. Whilst I am gone, I would request a final examination of Lord Boromir to assure that all is well with him."

"Of course, my lord. It will be done."

Ere Aragorn left the Healing House, Boromir said unto him, "When this matter is finished, I go to honor King Théoden. For though our lady Hildwynn works to heal my body, to see the king restored to his former strength will heal my spirit."

"I shall tell him of your intention," Aragorn answered, and left with that promise.

As the lady did her work, Boromir recounted the tale of his and the Lady Éowyn's flight. When first he began, Lady Hildwynn smiled to hear of troubles that had passed into memory, yet slowly the smile fell from her face and a wrinkle puckered between her brows.

Yet, Boromir took no heed of the lady's darkening countenance and finished his tale. "And now we have, the three of us, all returned to thy fair country; and there is naught but a slight pinching pain in my shoulder as I imagine is to be expected after lying so long on death's threshold. I pray my lady will tell me that it will heal quickly."

The Lady Hildwynn took a single step backwards. "My Lord Aragorn no doubt did an exceeding good thing when he gave my lord the kingsfoil. I believe fully that it spared my lord's life."

"He is the best of Men and a credit to our race," Boromir affirmed with a nod.

With a deep breath, Lady Hildwynn continued, "But, my lord, I fear your trials are far from over. The poison lingers still, in deep and dangerous places, and it can be drawn out with neither poultice nor potion."

Boromir shook his head. "I fear that understanding has eluded me. Explain your meaning."

"My lord, if I do nothing in regards to the poison, death will be thine in mere days. Yet, I can do nothing save take thine arm."

Boromir said nothing, yet his stomach began to ail him. He hardly heard the next words of the Lady.

"It is an unhappy arrangement, I know," said she. "But it is one that there is time to make ready for, if but a little. My lord may leave now if he so wishes and return as the sun rises on the morrow."

Slowly, Boromir rose to his feet. "I thank you, my lady," he said, his once strong voice choked with fear. "I shall call on the Lady Éowyn, I think. She, too, has suffered a long and hard journey." With this, he left the House of Healing.

As though under some spell, Boromir wandered mindless to the steps of Meduseld's Hall. His offensive arm hung heavy on his shoulder, and indeed it seemed to be his only member capable of feeling.

Despite all this, life, it seemed, had returned to Théoden's house. A great host of people were before the throne, and none spoke anymore in quiet and fearful voices. Beyond the throng, on his throne, the king sat unencumbered by a poison mind and poison council. Strong, he seemed to Boromir, and more so than in days long past.

Next to Théoden stood Éomer, who was clad in princely clothes; yet a foul look was upon his face and his arms were crossed in apparent displeasure. Though, at the sight of Boromir, his countenance brightened, and he called aloud, "Here is one who wishes to do you honor, Théoden, King! Boromir of Gondor has come to us." And he beckoned Boromir forward.

When before the throne Boromir knelt, Théoden stood to meet him and said, "Rise, son of Denethor, for I have done nothing that you should bow to me. In truth, pardon is to be asked of thee. I was unjust and unkingly in my treatment of one who has ever been the friend of Rohan."

"I do not think of it, my lord," Boromir offered in assurance. "There was a dark poison in my lord's mind as there was in his servant's body." He mentioned not that poison remained in him, nor that there was no hope of drawing it out.

"It would greatly ease this once-poisoned mind to know that you will ride with us to the defense of these lands," answered Théoden. "Our restored strengths combined shall strike fear into the hearts of every foul creature that attacks from the East."

At this, Éomer said, "We ride early on the morrow. Another mighty warrior of Gondor will indeed be a credit to our éored."

A long silence followed this saying as Boromir considered all the happenings of the past days. It was well known to him that if he chose to ride, life would leave him. Should even the sword spare him, his accursed wound would not. Yet, the days before him were days when mighty men of valor must show their worth.

"Gladly, I will aid Rohan," answered he at length, and he said no more, knowing that he had chosen his final days. Indeed, perhaps his life had been spared for such a time when the strength of men must need be spent.

At this, the king smiled and returned to his throne.

With a smile upon his face, Éomer walked to Boromir and clapped him upon the shoulder, not heeding the wince that crossed Boromir's face. "This gladdens my heart beyond words, my brother. Together we shall stand against the forces of Mordor."

"I wish to find the Lady Éowyn ere we take our leave," said Boromir. "She has given to me much care, and I would not seem thankless to her."

"I saw her but a moment ago," answered Éomer with a nod. His face once more fell. "She has kept to the stables for the duration of the trial of Grima Wormtongue. She wished neither to see him in his bonds nor to hear what his fate would be."

Boromir furrowed his brow. "And what was the fate of that wretched creature?" asked he.

"He was been forthwith banished from any place in Edoras or even in all of Rohan," Éomer said, his voice heavy. "Though many wished him death, the king desired that no more death be wrought on his account. Or so was the counsel of the ranger Aragorn."

With a shake of his head, Boromir answered, "I confess, I cannot know all the pain that was caused by Grima's control, and I dare not hold the counsel of my king in contempt. Yet, I shall say only that true justice will be done upon him if all becomes right within the world."

"May all be as you say, and may the day hasten when all is so," Éomer said with a sigh. "Now, go. There is much to be done ere we ride."

With a final embrace of his friend, Boromir took his leave and found the Lady Éowyn. All was as Éomer had said, for she was indeed found in the stables, sat upon a bale of hay, staring into an apparent nothingness with deadened eyes. Though her face was reddened and her hair wildly unkempt about her head, she made no sound. She was as one who had used all the tears she could muster and come to the end of them.

"My lady?" Boromir called to her, though he did not approach her.

With a start, she turned unto Boromir and smiled. "I see that much of your former strength has been regained," said she.

"With all thanks owed unto your care, for which I have come to offer my thanks," he answered, mentioning not that his full strength would never again return. "Are you unwell, my lady?"

Lady Éowyn rose to her feet. "I find that I am better than I have been of late," she said at length. "I know not if you have heard of the matter of Grima Wormtongue's trial..."

"I have," said Boromir. "I have also heard that you wish for no news of it to reach your ears."

With a nod, Éowyn said, "You speak in truth. I wish to hear no more of that vile man save from the greatest necessity. One day, I may find in me strength enough to offer my forgiveness to him, but that day is not in sight nor does it approach with any speed."

Boromir opened his mouth to speak, yet Éowyn silenced him. "Let us speak of it no more. If the matter is done, as I suppose it must be, I will see my brother now. These days without him have been long and troublesome."

Together, they walked from the stable into the open air. The dark of night had fallen on Rohan, and the Golden Hall was lit brightly with many torches and joyous companies. Almost cheerful was the sight of it, and had the times not been evil and Boromir's heart no longer heavy, his countenance would have been lifted.

"I am sure that you know as well as I of the comfort one's brother can offer in times of darkest despair," Éowyn said as they walked.

With a nod, Boromir answered, "I do, my lady, though in a different manner. Faramir is younger than I. There are five years between us."

"The same is true of my brother and I," Éowyn remarked. "Then, you are to him as my brother is to me. I do not doubt that he even now wishes for your presence, though you are in no great danger that we here can tell."

Boromir did not speak, for he was unwilling to burden her with all that was to come.

"In all truth," Éowyn continued. "I would have borne any fate of the Wormtongue to have my brother returned to me, even if the wretched man were given the finest room in Meduseld's Hall."

A curious thing this was to Boromir, and he dared to ask, "And if Éomer had not lived?"

At this, Éowyn's face turned cold, though it was illuminated by fire. "There would have been no words to console me. Even my uncle, the king who I love would have become one most hated to me. All the world may have burned, and it would have seemed right and good unto me. Understand, Lord Boromir, that before your arrival I was friendless save for Éomer."

"Friendless, you say you were, yet your people love you, and hide it not," answered Boromir.

It was then that they reached the steps of the Golden Hall. Éowyn stayed her feet for but a moment as she said, "My people have ever looked to me for reassurance in dark times, yet there is but one to whom I may turn to when all the world seems clothed in shadow. There is comfort in knowing that there is one who knows and shares my every struggle. Indeed, there is nothing I would not suffer for that comfort."

Boromir's mind turned again to Faramir. He had begun to miss him mere days after they had parted. Yet he missed him all the more, knowing now that his last sight of him had passed. Easily he recalled the last words that had passed between them.

"Have care, brother," Faramir had said. "The days grow darker, and it is not chance nor dream that takes you to the House of Elrond."

Boromir had laughed. "Then what is it that takes me so far away, Faramir? Perhaps it is that I require relief from your dour spirits."

With a smile and a shake of his head, Faramir had answered, "Do not be surprised that my answer is not as melancholy as you may expect. For, in truth, it is hope that stirs and calls you to the West. It has been waning in Gondor of late. Return soon and bring a little of it home."

How the memory stung Boromir as he started up the steps of the Golden Hall. It bit into his mind as pain bit into his shoulder, increasing with every step. Days that had not yet come to pass occupied his mind. The vision of a young man lingering in ghostly white halls, waiting for a brother who would never return, haunted him.

And what of their father? His manner towards Faramir was ill while Boromir still lived. What then would become of Faramir when he was dead?

At long last he stopped. "Lady Éowyn," said he. "I am not afraid for my own death or pain."

Éowyn furrowed her brow. "My lord?"

"I wish for you to relay to your honorable uncle and brother that I shall honor my word and aid Rohan to whatever degree I am able. Yet, I do not ride nor draw swords with them on the morrow. I pray their understanding."

Having thus said, Boromir turned on his heel and made haste once more to the House of Healing. Easily he found the lady of the house amongst her many charges.

"My lord Boromir!" said she. "I did not expect to be again honored with your presence so soon."

"All haste is necessary, for I have a mind quickly changed and a little brother yet in need of me."

The lady hesitated but a moment. "I must beg pardon, my lord."

"Take the arm, my lady. Pray, do it quickly. I have no desire to prolong those evil things that must occur."

At length, Lady Hildwynn nodded and went to her cupboard to withdraw a vial of red liquid. "Pray, sit and drink all that is in this vial. I swear unto you, you will feel no pain that you shall be able to call to memory."

Boromir did all that the lady said. But moments after the vial was finished, the world was darkened, and he remembered no more.


End file.
